Negligentia: Optare
by Murkatroyd
Summary: Continuation of Negligentia. Harry has never given serious thought to having children of his own. When the topic is approached, he finally allows himself to consider the idea of being a father, and the lingering influences of his own upbringing.


**Disclaimer –**

The story of Harry Potter isn't mine, and I'm receiving nothing for fiddling around with it. Everything recognisable belongs to J.K. Rowling. All I'm doing is messing around with her world. I won't accept any accusations saying I'm doing otherwise. The only things I take any claim for are the incantations and characters I have created for myself.

**Author's Note –**

I'll use italics for letters, thoughts, Parseltongue, and any other forms of verbal and non-verbal expression that seem appropriate. I won't use bold tags for anything except headings.

**Summary –**

Continuation of Negligentia. Harry has never given serious thought to having children of his own. When the topic is approached, he finally allows himself to consider the idea of being a father, and the lingering influences of his own upbringing.

–– STORY ––  
_**Negligentia: Optare**_

**Saturday, November 27, 2004  
2:00 PM**

It had been perhaps fifteen minutes since they'd arrived in Diagon Alley, and Harry Potter was already beginning to question the wisdom of his plan to spend the day there with his godson.

The plan had seemed a good one at the time. Having worked out with Remus and Tonks that he would spend the weekend with Teddy, bringing him back in time for their usual Sunday dinner at their quarters at Hogwarts, Harry had thought throughout the week about how he could entertain a four-year-old boy – ("Four and a _half_!") – who had grown up at Hogwarts, which was, of course, by far the most magical place on their side of the wizarding world. By Thursday, Diagon Alley had struck Harry as both ideal and likely the only option in the United Kingdom.

Unfortunately, seemingly every witch and wizard in the United Kingdom had thought similarly.

"I hope Gringotts isn't this bloody busy," he muttered, having been elbowed by a passerby for the third time in perhaps fifteen seconds.

The Christmas rush seemed in full swing a lot earlier than usual. In previous years, Harry had found that Diagon Alley didn't usually fill up at weekends until the second weekend of December, and occasionally the first. Certainly not a full month in advance.

Wizards and witches as a collective tended to procrastinate more than that, or so he had thought.

At least he could applaud his decision to have Teddy sit on his shoulders. The alley was far too crowded to let him walk freely about at his age, and heaven forbid if he wandered off into the crowd, to say nothing of his morphing abilities –

"Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry, look!" his godson exclaimed, "Haggid's here!"

Harry blinked and looked around, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the midday sunlight. Sure enough, the vast form of Rubeus Hagrid could easily be seen over the crowd. He was quite close to the entryway to Knockturn Alley, presumably for his usual gamekeeper-related purchases that couldn't be made in Diagon Alley, and was slowly making his way through an especially large crowd in front of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes.

"Good eye, kiddo," he said with a grin, and Teddy beamed at him in the reflection of a nearby shop window. "Want to say hello to him?"

"Yeah!" said Teddy excitedly with rapid nods of his head, which now sported – to Harry's mixed horror and amusement – a long, shaggy beard and wild black hair. He'd even managed to make his eyes as black and beady as Hagrid's.

"Edward Remus," said Harry, as sternly as he could whilst trying his damnedest to not laugh, "promise me you'll never, ever let your mother see you like this. She might have a stroke."

Teddy blinked, his newly-black eyes showing his confusion. "What's a stoke?"

"Never you mind," he replied, giving in and laughing. "Just don't let your mother see you looking like – well – actually, you'd best not look like that around either of your parents. It'll be our secret, all right?"

"OK, Uncle Harry," said Teddy with all the seriousness of a four-year-old, though he made no move to change his features.

A fond shake of his head later, Harry yelled out, "Oy, Hagrid!"

Hagrid looked over and, at least insofar as Harry could tell through Hagrid's own vast beard, smiled over at them. "Alrigh' there, Harry?" he boomed, startling several people around him.

Harry could hear Hagrid's scattered apologies as he slowly made his way over to them through the crowd. Try as he might, he couldn't hide a grin at the sight: Hagrid was more than eleven feet tall, easily three times as wide as the average man, and had physical strength that could be considered superhuman by the standards of regular wizards, which meant an accidental bump or shove could send you flying.

Indeed, Harry had found himself sprawled across the ground on more than one occasion after a hearty slap on the back from Hagrid, and for those who knew Hagrid as well as Harry had come to know him since he'd started at Hogwarts, such incidents could only be taken with good humour.

He finally managed to get through the crowd, and his beard twitched at the sight of Teddy.

"Yeh seem ter have a little me on yer shoulders, Harry."

"I've made him promise not to show it to his parents," Harry told him. "No offence, but I don't want to imagine Tonks's reaction to this."

Hagrid waved it off with a grin. "An' how are you today, Teddy?" he said warmly, winking at the miniature version of himself.

"Hi, Haggid!" said Teddy, who still looked very delighted at having his long, full beard. "Uncle Harry's taking me to Gingotts!" he excitedly continued. "Uncle Harry and I are gonna go zoom, zoom, _zoom_!"

Hagrid chuckled. "Yeh've got a tougher stomach'n I do, lad," he said, "I hate ridin' those carts."

"Don't like their one speed only, Hagrid?" Harry said cheerfully. He remembered when he and Remus had gone to Gringotts together thirteen years ago, the summer before Harry had started at Hogwarts: Remus certainly hadn't enjoyed the cart rides between the vaults, but Harry had at least learned the differences between stalactites and stalagmites, which was knowledge gained, if not particularly useful knowledge.

"Not even a little," said Hagrid gruffly, walking with them toward Gringotts now. "Where'bouts is Remus, anyway?"

"Probably fast asleep at home," said Harry, lowering his voice a little. "The full moon was last night."

"Aah, tha's righ' …"

They continued chatting all the way to the bank, the trek through the crowd made easier by Hagrid's presence, at least for Harry. Halfway there he managed to convince Teddy, who was piping up about the menagerie Harry had promised to take him to later, to shorten his new beard, which was attracting various looks of affront and incredulity – none of which Teddy noticed – and, far more importantly, itching and scratching the nape of Harry's neck.

He managed to stop himself from blowing a raspberry at Hagrid when he laughed, though it was a near thing.

"I don't really need to visit the bank today, to be honest," he quietly told Hagrid as they walked up the steps. "I've got plenty of Galleons and Sickles stored at my flat, but Teddy loves the cart rides, y'know?"

"Yeh haven' bin on a Gringotts cart recently, have you?" muttered Hagrid. "They've gotten faster."

"Oh, come on, Hagrid," said Harry, scoffing. "Surely they aren't _that_ fast …"

Half an hour later, Teddy was happily seated on one of Hagrid's shoulders as he followed Harry out of Gringotts; Harry's hair had reached a level of messiness it'd never seen before, and there was a rather green tinge to his cheeks.

"Sorry, what was that you was sayin' earlier?" said Hagrid, who looked highly amused.

"Oh, shut up."

He winced as Hagrid, who had not joined Harry and Teddy on the cart ride to Harry's vault, patted him on the back with a dustbin lid-sized hand. "Chin up, Uncle Harry, yeh've got the junior Rubeus here ter look after."

"Are you OK, Uncle Harry?" asked Teddy, his facial features quickly shifting to match Harry's as Hagrid carefully set him down on Harry's shoulders again.

"Yeah, kiddo, I just need a moment – _when did those bloody carts_ –"

"Ah, yeh'll live," Hagrid said cheerfully. "Give it a couple o' minutes more an' it'll pass. S'why I don' go ter Gringotts if I can help it: ruddy goblins won' slow down those carts fer nobody – oh, fall over," he barked at the goblin guard nearest him, who looked rather affronted.

Harry took a few deep breaths, exhaled, and finally felt the green leave his cheeks. Before he could say anything, however, Teddy was bouncing in place and pointing excitedly.

"Uncle Harry, Uncle Harry, look!"

He looked over, amused, thinking fondly that a simple stick on the road might be enough to excite Teddy to the point where –

"Uncle Dako's here!"

Harry only just managed to stop himself from snorting at the name Teddy had for his uncle – sort of, as they were actually first cousins once-removed, as if it mattered to any of them – as Draco Malfoy made his way over. Hagrid, on the other hand, didn't bother with such effort.

"Hello, Harry," greeted Draco, and they shook hands. "Hello, mini-Harry," he added fondly, glancing up and smiling at his nephew, who beamed down at him. "Hagrid," he said a bit cautiously, only glancing at Hagrid for a moment.

"Malfoy," said Hagrid gruffly. "I suppose I'll see yeh soon, Harry," he added, shaking Harry's entire arm as they exchanged goodbyes, "an' you behave yerself, Teddy Lupin," he mock-growled.

"Bye, Haggid!" said Teddy with a cheerful wave.

Draco watched Hagrid depart with wary eyes, looking as though he had narrowly avoided a curse. "After all this time," he murmured so only Harry could hear, "he still scares the shite out of me a bit."

"Mind your language!" Harry mock-exclaimed, clapping his hands over a giggling Teddy's ears. "That's my godson on my shoulders!"

"I've heard his mother call him a little shite," said Draco with raised eyebrows, deadpan.

"Maybe so, _once_, but that wouldn't stop her from kicking the s- heck out of you if she heard you using such language around her precious little boy."

Draco shuddered. "Fair point."

"So, what brings you to Diagon Alley today?" asked Harry. "Unless you enjoy having elbows jab into your ribcage, of course."

"Of course," said Draco with a smirk and a dip of his head. "I'm here for several reasons, actually." He ticked off his fingers and continued, "Astoria needs a few potions and doesn't want to wait until Daphne returns from Paris, so I'll be dropping by the apothecary. Mother asked that I stop at Gringotts while I'm here and pick up some jewellery from the family vault, and Father, who seems to have taken ill this week, asked that I pick up a ledger while I'm there, to save both him and an owl the journey."

"Ah," said Harry. "Er, sorry to hear about Lucius?"

He could have hit himself for making it sound like a question, even if he wasn't particularly concerned for Lucius Malfoy, but Draco waved his hand dismissively as he lowered it. "He's only fifty, he'll manage," he said. "Anyway, as for me, I'm avoiding all three of them for a few hours."

Harry laughed. "The more things change, the more they don't."

"Indeed," drawled Draco. "Oh, and Nymphadora – yes, yes, she doesn't like her name, I don't care – informed me that Teddy is spending the weekend with you, and I assumed you'd be here around this time."

"Merlin's beard, I'm not that predictable, am I?"

"As sure as my nephew now possesses a level of intelligence that surpasses that of Crabbe and Goyle, put together."

"To be fair, you'd be surprised by the number of people who might argue that your niece has done likewise."

"I highly doubt that," Draco scoffed.

It was Harry's turn to raise his eyebrows. "Oh?"

"Yes. Why would that surprise me?"

They shared a laugh. "It's always a thrill to have a laugh at Crabbe and Goyle," said Harry. "Seeing as you're trying to avoid your wife and parents, care to join your nephew and I for lunch at the Leaky Cauldron?"

Draco made a show of wrinkling his nose at the thought, which served only to make Harry laugh and Teddy copy the movement almost perfectly, but he nodded and followed them.

* * *

**Saturday, September 14, 1991  
12:10 PM**

Harry thought he might be able to find his way around the castle now.

Why maps weren't available for first years, at the very least, was beyond him. Hogwarts was a castle so actively magical that, among countless other wonders, staircases occasionally moved of their own free will and doorways could pretend to not be doorways if they so chose. For all he knew, the very layout of the castle wasn't always the same.

How were younger students meant to remember every corridor, every classroom, every floor?

At least the entryway into the Ravenclaw common room was interesting. He had a funny feeling that needing to provide an acceptable answer to a riddle or question at least once a day for seven years would become tiresome well before the end of his _first_ year, but the idea behind it was quite clearly Ravenclawesque. Besides, he'd already managed to determine that the answer didn't have to be correct to be accepted by the door. After all, not every riddle or question had only one correct answer, or even an answer at all. The response only needed to be given an acceptable level of thought to be adequate.

His year mates were nice, too. He'd been getting along famously with Terry, and Anthony and Michael were friendly enough blokes as well. Even the girls seemed nice, particularly Padma, the other twin of his year and house, who had become a good friend to him as well. She alone of their group understood what it was like to have a twin who was fundamentally different from yourself, as she and her sister Parvati had been separated by the same houses, even if the rift between the Patil sisters was not quite as wide.

Padma, at least, didn't appear to be worried about it – but then, she and her sister likely got along the way siblings ought to, while he and Jacob had never done.

The distance between them had never seemed as insurmountable as it did at Hogwarts, and yet Harry found he wasn't as bothered by it as he'd thought he would be. There was simply too much to see and do at Hogwarts to dwell for too long on the family he'd been distant from for as long as he could remember.

Nothing about the castle was uninteresting to him. He wanted to know everything he could about it, see everything he could. He'd likely never find the Chamber of Secrets, let alone explore it, but every floor had something unique about it, whether it be a tapestry, a suit of armor, or even a disused classroom which had never been emptied. The solid walls which pretended to be doors were certainly annoying, as was Peeves the poltergeist, but even they – and especially Peeves – added their own charm to the overall magnificence of the castle, and it would be odd if the castle _didn't_ have them, knowing them all as Harry did now.

He was exploring the dungeons today, and not simply because he had not yet seen all he could. No, he was looking for someone from Slytherin house as well.

He didn't know where the Slytherin common room was located – he wasn't sure how Remus knew where it was, but Remus refused to tell him all the same, citing house secrecy of all things – and not knowing its location made it annoying to look for students of the house. That wasn't going to stop him, though.

"Interesting."

Harry started. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't noticed anyone approach him. Come to think of it, he hadn't heard footsteps from either end of the corridor, either.

"It is not often I see one of Rowena's children alone in the dungeons."

As the speaker approached, it became obvious why Harry hadn't heard his approach. Ghosts, of course, had no footsteps; being mere imprints of the dead, the only sound they could make was through speech, or perhaps the movement of their spectral forms at a high enough speed.

"The Baron," he said, half-nervous and half-awed.

The wide, black eyes of the Bloody Baron blinked down at him, his spectral form flickering in the torchlight. He stared silently for a long moment before he bowed his head and said, his voice a whisper, "A pleasure indeed, Harry Potter. What brings you to the reaches of the Slytherin commons?"

Harry blinked, a bit shocked. "You know my name?"

"Of course," the Baron said hoarsely. "All of the house ghosts attend the Sorting. We see, and hear, everything that happens around us." He cocked his head once, his gaze impassive, and added, "I was interested to hear your rather unusual request to the Sorting Hat."

Despite knowing full well that a ghost could not cause him direct harm, Harry could feel the colour draining from his face.

"Be at ease, child," said the Baron. "I have not taken offence." He smiled, a frightening sight, and added, "It was well worth it to see the look on that fool Nicholas's face moments later."

The colour returned to his face. He knew that Nicholas must be the Gryffindor house ghost, Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington – or, as the student body called him due to his botched beheading half a millennium before, Nearly Headless Nick. He rubbed the side of his neck at the thought and held back a frown, opting on an admittedly weak smile instead.

"So, what brings you to the reaches of the Slytherin commons, Harry Potter?" the Baron repeated.

"I'm – I'm looking for one of my year mates," Harry said quickly.

"Ah," was the Baron's reply. "Well, you will not find Blaise Zabini, Theodore Nott, or Millicent Bulstrode down here any time soon, as they are currently preoccupied with exploration of the castle's sixth floor. You likewise will not find the remaining five lasses of your year, as they are currently in the Great Hall. I suppose that leaves Draco Malfoy, Vincent Crabbe, and Gregory Goyle, who are currently in their common room."

"I – I don't suppose you'd tell me where the common room is?" asked Harry nervously.

The Baron stared at him.

"Right," said Harry, though he wasn't quite sure what he was saying it to, "well, can you let Malfoy know that I've, er, sought him out?"

The silence was clawing at him – perhaps literally, considering this was Hogwarts – when the Baron offered one curt nod and flew off. Harry shivered, the chill of the dungeon's air unnerving him now that he was standing still, but he had to wait only a few minutes before the Baron returned, a rather nervous Draco Malfoy following him.

"Potter?" said Malfoy, a bit incredulously, but a glance from the Baron quelled him.

"I have fulfilled your request, Harry Potter," the Baron said softly, his unblinking gaze returning to Harry. He dipped his head. "Until we meet again."

"Er, right," said Harry, deciding quickly that bowing was the right move and privately wishing he had thought to read more about the Hogwarts ghosts, or at least about proper etiquette when dealing with ghosts, assuming such existed. "Thank you, sir."

Another dip of his head, followed by a third at Malfoy, and the Baron disappeared through the wall.

It was silent for a moment. Finally, still staring at the wall, Malfoy murmured, "He scares the shite out of me."

"Yeah …"

Malfoy looked over at Harry, confusion and suspicion noticeably breaking through his usual mask; the Baron's presence had evidently shaken him more than Harry would have thought. "What do you want, Potter?" he asked.

"A truce."

The Baron's presence must have left its mark on him, too, he considered later.

He blinked. "A truce."

"Yeah." Harry ran a hand through his hair, never once looking away from Malfoy. "I shouldn't have acted that way on the train. I'm sorry for that. You and my brother probably hate each other by now, but, well, I'm not my brother. What happens between you and Jacob is none of my business."

Malfoy didn't say anything. He merely stared at Harry, looking rather out of his element.

"I don't want an enemy, Malfoy," said Harry, mostly to break the unnerving silence. "I dunno if we'll ever be friends, but we haven't got a reason to hate each other, have we?"

"Your brother comes to mind," Malfoy pointed out.

Harry shrugged. "As I said, I'm not my brother."

"No, I suppose you're not." Malfoy stared at him with mixed suspicion and what could have been consideration. "You're not in Gryffindor with him, and no one has so much as seen you two together in the fortnight that we've been here. I know I'm not the only Slytherin who's surprised."

It was obvious that Malfoy was looking for information. Whether he wanted to know for himself or for his parents was something Harry could only guess at, but he knew all too well that such information, especially from his own mouth, could make waves in the wizarding community. With what he had learned about fame through watching his parents and brother bask in it over the years, Harry knew that even rumours could make life difficult for the Potters for the foreseeable future if the wizarding world was given reason to believe the family wasn't as idyllic as they seemed.

His first time talking about it with someone other than Remus, however, wasn't going to be with a Slytherin, knowing the Gryffindor-Slytherin rivalry as he did. He didn't need to make things difficult for himself at home, not when he still lived there over the summers.

He didn't see the need to make things difficult for his family, either, if he was honest with himself. What would be the point?

He would be the first to admit, if only to himself and maybe his godfather, that his life wasn't exactly ideal. That didn't necessarily mean it was bad. He'd had Remus, hadn't he? Remus had always been there for him, had always gone to lengths to cheer him up when he couldn't prevent himself from feeling down, had always had a small gift and a smile and a story to tell, even when the man didn't have anything else, quite literally at times. Harry's time with him meant everything.

He had friends now, too. Kids his own age who wanted to be around him, and not because they were mistaking him for his brother, or because they wanted to use him as a bridge to reach his brother. It baffled him at times.

Besides, he only had summers to get through with his parents now, and he could manage spending one more cumulative year with his parents. He'd already made it through eleven.

"I dunno what to tell you," he said, and looked away. "I don't want any trouble."

It sounded lame even to his own ears.

For a moment, it seemed Malfoy wanted to say something, perhaps offer a reason they really ought to hate each other, but the moment passed without a comment. He frowned over Harry's shoulder, looking thoughtfully at something perhaps only he could see, before his cool grey eyes finally returned to Harry, who looked over again.

"Fine," he said. "I don't have to like you, though."

Harry shrugged again. "No, you don't," he agreed. "But you don't have to hate me, either, do you?" He smiled a bit and added, "If we must have a rivalry, why not have it out in the Potions classroom?"

"We haven't got Potions class together."

"No, but the marks are posted."

"True enough," said Malfoy, and he finally nodded. "All right, you've got a deal. Neither of us will bother the other, if we can help it, and may the best Potioneer win." As he held out his hand, he smirked and added, "And when I do …"

"Yeah, yeah," said Harry, mostly to cover his surprise, and he caught Malfoy's outstretched hand and shook it once. "Thanks, Malfoy."

"See you around, Potter."

Malfoy turned on his heel and walked off, and Harry walked the opposite way, toward what he thought might be the entrance hall. He walked with greater strides than normal, thinking about the conversation he'd just had.

He wondered again why he had decided to extend a branch to Malfoy, when everything he knew about the family should have warned him against even approaching the boy.

Maybe it was precisely that, he thought. Maybe he was tired of listening to what his parents had to say about things. What did it _really _matter what they told him, when they weren't all that interested in anything he got up to anyway? Maybe he only wanted to do something he was quite sure they wouldn't approve of, assuming they ever noticed. Remus, Harry was sure, would approve of what he'd just done, if not immediately, or for his own sake.

If their surprisingly civil conversation was any indication, Malfoy didn't seem the lost cause Harry had always heard his family was. Maybe he just wanted to see what would come of this.

* * *

**Saturday, November 27, 2004  
3:00 PM**

"This is quaint," said Draco, brushing off his robes as he sat across from Harry and Teddy with the air of a man making a considerable concession. "It's been quite some time since I've had the opportunity to indulge in, ah, a commoner's meal."

Harry raised his eyebrows. "It's just Teddy and I here with you, Draco, and I've already cast that charm of Snape's that you taught me, so no one but Hannah will bother us."

"Oh, I know. This is partly me trying not to break character and partly me trying to entertain my favourite nephew."

"Oh," said Harry, nonplussed. "Well, er, don't quit your day job."

"Please," Draco said with a sneer. "As if _I_ will ever need to do something as dreadfully mundane as _work_."

Harry snorted, not daring to look over at Teddy for fear of laughing outright. "It's always a pleasure to see you, mate," he drawled. "More so than listening to my mate Terry try to tell one of his awful jokes, but maybe less so than drinking here when Tom decides that my drinks are on the house for the evening."

It was Draco's turn to raise his eyebrows. "He does that?"

"Occasionally," said Harry. "I tend to tip quite well, and he's made it his way of rewarding that."

"Interesting."

"Well, I'd like to think so."

"My husband and I have gone out for a few nice dinners with the money made from those tips," said a woman approaching their table, and Harry smiled up at Hannah Longbottom. "Of course, Harry, you know you don't have to. It will always be greatly appreciated, you know that, but you _really_ don't."

"I know I don't," Harry assured her.

Hannah rolled her eyes. "So, what will it be, gentlemen?"

"It's on me today, Harry," said Draco, and he turned to address Hannah before Harry could say anything. "I'll have your special with port, please, and the tyke will have the youth's special with pumpkin juice. Harry, I imagine you'll have the special as well, only with Butterbeer?"

"Not this time, actually," said Harry. "They make a terrific steak and kidney pie here. I'll have that, Hannah, with a Butterbeer."

"Steak and kidney pie?" Draco echoed. "Actually, that sounds nice. I'll have that instead of the special, please."

"Of course. I'll have your drinks out for you in a jiffy."

"Thanks, Hannah," said Harry.

As Hannah walked off, Draco turned his attention to Teddy. "So, how's my favourite nephew today?" he said, lifting Teddy over the table and into his lap. "Are you having a nice weekend with your Uncle Harry?"

"Yeah!" said Teddy excitedly, and suddenly Harry was looking at the youngest version of Draco he'd seen since the day he'd met Draco on the Hogwarts Express. "Uncle Harry's taking me to the menadree!"

"Menagerie," Harry corrected, trying not to laugh at the sight.

Teddy ignored him. "We're gonna see the kitties!"

"Ah, you like kittens?" He looked up at Harry, frowned a little at his grin, and said, "Considering how often Teddy must see Hagrid around the castle, I suppose his animal of choice could be a lot worse than kittens."

"His mother will never let him have a pet Hippogriff," said Harry, "no matter how many times he asks."

"I quite agree," said Draco. "Old Buckbeak just isn't a good enough pet for our Teddy, is he?"

Harry blinked. "You remember Buckbeak's name?"

"Of course," said Draco. "As I recall, the bloody thing nearly tore off my arm in our third year. Virtually everything about that hour will remain fresh in my mind forever."

"I wasn't in your Care of Magical Creatures lesson," said Harry, "but if I remember correctly, word in the castle around that time was that you'd insulted Buckbeak, even after Hagrid had flat out said that doing so is dumb and will provoke any Hippogriff into attacking you. I'm paraphrasing – again, I wasn't there – but that's probably what he was getting at."

"Yes, I'm aware I was dumb at thirteen years old," Draco said with just a slight trace of his old haughtiness, "but I still maintain that Hippogriffs shouldn't have been lesson number one, and that Hagrid should have known better than to think teenagers would be able to handle such prideful creatures."

"I can't say I disagree with you there, mate," Harry commented, "though I'll note that most of those teenagers didn't insult any of the Hippogriffs."

"That said," Draco continued, pointedly ignoring this, "the Flobberworm lessons were right boring."

Harry shuddered, memories of those dreadful third year classes returning from the back of his mind. "Oh, absolutely. I hated those things."

"What are fobberworms?" asked Teddy.

Draco exchanged a look with Harry. "You won't need to know that for a long time yet, Teddy," he said, ruffling hair identical to his own. "You'll hopefully never have to, but I know you're going to take Care of Magical Creatures when you're old enough, and I imagine there's a lesson or two about them. Trust me, they're not as nice as kittens. Focus on the kittens."

Teddy blinked. "OK, Uncle Dako," he said, shrugging.

Perhaps Harry watched the exchange with too obvious an interest, as Draco looked up, blinked as well, and said, "Something wrong?"

"Oh, just an idle thought."

"Of?"

Harry paused, considering the question he wanted to ask. "Whenever I see you interacting with Teddy," he said, "I can see … well, you and Astoria have been married for a few years, and some of my other mates have already started … will you be having children?"

"Ah," Draco said, an emotion flickering across his face that Harry didn't recognise. "I've been wondering when that topic would come up with family. I didn't think you'd be first, though."

He left it at that, and Harry was about to broach the subject again when Hannah returned to their table, a tray of drinks in her hand. "Here you are, gentlemen," she said, setting a mug of Butterbeer in front of Harry and a glass of port wine in front of Draco, "and here you are, little sir," she added, the hint of a motherly tone in her voice surprising Harry as she set down a cup of pumpkin juice in front of Teddy.

"Thank you, miss!" he exclaimed.

"And so well-mannered, too!" she said, beaming at him. Turning her gaze back to Harry, she added, "Your meals won't be long."

"Thanks, Hannah."

She walked away with a parting smile, and Harry returned his attention to Draco.

"Right," said Draco. "To answer your question, we don't yet want children."

Harry blinked. "That doesn't sound like Astoria."

"Perhaps 'don't yet want' is a poor choice of words," Draco replied, and he met Harry's gaze. "We're not yet ready. I think Malfoys simply weren't meant to have children at an early age, with all the preparation that comes with inheriting the role of head of the family. The estate, the investments, maintaining the empire and business contacts … anyway, Father was in his mid-twenties when I was born – although, in retrospect, I suppose there's another obvious reason as to why he waited so long – and he wasn't born himself until my grandfather was in his thirties, it was quite a point of contention in my family at the time … purebloods, especially those who tend to stick with the old traditions, tend to start having children within the first few years of adulthood, as you know."

"My grandparents were among the rare exceptions, but yes, I know."

"Mother did often wonder about her great-aunt," said Draco airily. "Regardless, I wondered at times if it's some sort of family jinx, but Father assures me it's not. We do want children at some future point, though."

"You've said yourself – more than once, I might add – that you will never need to work, Draco," Harry pointed out. "Well, beyond dealing with stocks and such, but that isn't a daily job. You could surely have children at any point."

Draco wrapped an arm around Teddy, who, recognising an adult conversation, had his attention focused on practicing the shifting of his features and was blissfully ignoring their conversation, having finished his pumpkin juice. With his free hand, Draco drummed his fingers against the table, a rare outward sign for him. He seemed to be carefully contemplating his next words. This thoughtfulness was fine with Harry, who remembered all too well how loud and unthinking Draco had been at a young age; it had taken years at Hogwarts for him to begin growing out of it.

"I suppose we're waiting for you two," he said finally.

Harry blinked. "Sorry?"

"For you and Daphne," said Draco, twitching his nose ever so slightly in a way that Harry knew was a replacement to rolling his eyes. "You two will be married next summer and presumably ready to have a child together. Astoria has become excited by the idea of having a child at the same time as Daphne, so the children can be raised together and attend Hogwarts in the same year. Since I am not particularly in a rush to become a father, I haven't yet seen a reason to discourage her."

It wasn't an answer Harry had expected, and he had no idea how to respond to it.

"Even if they don't end up being in the same year," Draco continued, "I see no reason why the future cousins won't be close anyway. Either way, little Scorpius can wait."

This caught Harry's attention. "Er, Scorpius?"

"After the constellation," clarified Draco. "Mother isn't thrilled with her cousin Sirius – he's the only one left of the direct Black line, and he hasn't had children. If he dies, the Black name dies with him."

"That's likely what's going to happen, since Sirius enjoys his bachelor life far too much to give it up and have a child."

Draco's nose twitch was noticeable this time. "Mother was afraid of that," he said. "It's a shame his brother Regulus died so young … anyway, Mother has always insisted on maintaining the traditions of the Blacks, including naming future generations after stars and constellations. Her grandchild being named for a constellation is important to her, and it doesn't interest me enough to argue; if her family's line must end, at least she can keep some of its legacies alive." He blinked. "Didn't you know I was named for the dragon constellation?"

"I didn't know for sure."

Draco jerked his head, a shrugging movement for him. "The House of Black uses astrology extensively in naming their children, and they repeat names a lot. Sirius, for example, is named for the dog star, and is the third on that tree to be named Sirius."

That was a possible explanation for the Animagus form, Harry thought. Or, perhaps Sirius simply possessed qualities representative of a dog. That'd be quite a coincidence.

"To return to the original topic," said Draco, "will you and Daphne be having a child once you've married?"

"Well, er, we've never really talked about it," Harry said slowly, searching his memory banks. "It's come up in casual conversation, probably many times, but neither of us has given it serious consideration before. Though, now that I think about it, I reckon Daphne's parents will want grandchildren from their eldest daughter at some point – Linda, at least, has brought it up on occasion at dinners –"

"Her parents – what?" Draco cut off, looking a bit shocked. "What about you two?"

"Daphne might want a child at some point, but she's never said," mused Harry. "Being a teacher at Hogwarts will make that a bit tricky, and that's not to mention the side projects she often gets up to, but we could probably make it work if we –"

"What about you _two_?" repeated Draco, with extra emphasis. "What about _you_, Harry? Don't _you_ want children?"

"Me?" said Harry, blinking. He shrugged his shoulders. "Again, Draco, I've never given it a great deal of thought. I'm not the slightest bit interested in whether my parents want – or, even more laughably, _expect_ – grandchildren from me. Besides, I've got two godchildren, haven't I?"

"That's hardly the same thing. You're basically related to them in the same way I am."

"It's enough for me." Harry held up his hand and sighed. "Look, it isn't a topic I like to think about much, OK?"

Draco blinked, and then it was his turn to sigh. "Harry …"

"Over the last couple of years, Draco, I've told you quite a bit about my childhood," said Harry, staring at his mug. Draco fell silent, listening. "I've told you more than I would have ever told you at Hogwarts, and enough so that you can probably fill in the gaps for what I haven't said. You know that Remus practically raised me before I went to Hogwarts. He was, and is, more of a father to me than James ever was. You know that I stayed at Hogwarts for all but the summer months for most years we were students there."

He paused to drink, pondering whether he should say more.

"You might not know this," he continued, "but I've had so little contact with any of them in the last thirteen years, especially since leaving Godric's Hollow after Hogwarts, that they might as well be strangers to me." He looked up. "I haven't tried to bridge that gap, and I don't know that I ever will, even for the sake of the wedding. I've never even officially introduced them to Daphne, which she's all but assured me is fine with her."

He paused again, but Draco showed no sign of interruption.

"I don't know how to be a son," he said. "What on earth would I know about raising one?"

Draco didn't answer right away. He stared at Harry for a long moment, his eyebrows raised slightly, and then looked down. "Teddy," he said, and Teddy immediately looked up, sporting a look that was one part Hagrid and one part Severus Snape. "Do you see the woman over there, the one who brought over your pumpkin juice?"

Teddy looked over at Hannah, who was leaning against the bar, and nodded.

"She's a friend of Uncle Harry's. Would you like to go show her some of your faces?"

A big grin spread on Teddy's face; he didn't often have new people to whom he could show off his developing control over his Metamorphmagus abilities. "Yeah!" he exclaimed.

"There's a good lad," said Draco with a smile of his own. "Ask her for another juice, if you'd like. Tell her it's on me."

"Thank you, Uncle Dako!"

Draco's smile didn't flicker, but his eyelid twitched so slightly that Harry almost didn't see it; he smirked, despite himself. "Go on, then," he said, ruffling Teddy's wild black hair. "Hannah will bring you back over when your lunch is here."

As Teddy wandered over to Hannah, who lifted him up onto the bar and laughed delightedly at his hair, Draco returned his attention to Harry.

"Let me answer your question with another question," he said, and Harry nodded warily. "Do you think any man knows how to be a father before he actually becomes a father? Do you think _my_ father did? _I_ don't, and I'm more than seven years into adulthood."

Harry's gaze flicked. "Our childhoods aren't comparable, Draco."

"You've met my father, haven't you?"

"And your mother," Harry said, inclining his head. "Whatever they might have otherwise been, when it mattered most, they didn't neglect you."

Neglect. A word that had taken him years to use, years to even recognise as the word that described his childhood.

It was easier over time to recognise his childhood for what it was. He had tried to rationalise it all to himself for so long, had tried to justify how his parents could so easily disregard one of their children for the other. Once it had finally become clear that he couldn't, that there was no rationalisation for what they had done, he could only be glad that he had Remus, that he had had someone at all to turn to when it all got to be too much.

Harry didn't know what he would have done, or become, without his godfather's influence. All he knew was that his childhood hadn't been as horrible as it could have been.

Whenever he considered it, his thoughts tended to shift to the Dursleys. He could somehow see himself, in some other life, being brought up by his aunt and uncle. There was never a backstory to this hypothetical situation – perhaps Lord Voldemort had killed his parents during the Halloween attack, or perhaps they had abandoned him there after the fact, or any number of potential reasons – but it still came to mind at times. He couldn't even really remember what they looked like, and he couldn't picture their son at all, but he could remember how they felt about the Potters and magic, and it was all he could do to not shudder at the thought of being raised by them.

At least his parents had never raised a hand to him. It wasn't difficult to think of the Dursleys as being the type who would raise a hand to him.

"That doesn't mean they were idyllic."

Harry looked up; he had nearly lost himself in thought. That was happening a lot lately. "No, but you couldn't have had it bad."

"You think so?" said Draco. "Surely you remember what I was like when we started together at Hogwarts. I certainly haven't been able to forget. I despised most of our classmates, including you, for no other reason than my parents brought me up to think of them as inferior … or of myself as superior." He paused. "Honestly, it was both, and it was years before I truly allowed myself to start challenging the notion. _Years_, Harry. We'd have been brothers-in-law either way, I think, since we each fell for a Greengrass, but I don't know that we'd be sitting here right now, having lunch together and spending time with Teddy, if you hadn't approached me during first year. I imagine a lot would be different in my life if you hadn't done that, actually."

Harry opened his mouth to reply.

"No, it's true," Draco continued, interrupting him. "It was you. I honestly thought you knew that. You know what I was like when we met, and how easily I could have remained that way if I'd only spent time with my fellow Slytherins."

"Would you have?" said Harry slowly. "_Could_ you have, with Astoria?"

"Astoria wasn't at Hogwarts with us for our first two years."

That was true, Harry supposed, although he doubted Astoria would ever let herself be ignored, even if Draco had been as irredeemable as he thought he would have been if they hadn't had their friendly rivalry. Astoria, even at a young age, had always been a force of nature.

"I should have been able to see it for myself anyway," said Draco, lacing his fingers together in front of him. "I was surrounded by proof of how wrong they'd been from the moment I stepped foot into the castle. Of the fact that blood has little to do with how in tune one can be with their own magic, or, indeed, of how much magic they actually have. Of the fact that being a scion to two of the most notable houses in the wizarding world didn't make me a deity amongst my peers." He smiled bitterly. "It didn't even necessarily mean I was at their level. Among others, Granger showed me that."

Harry blinked. "Hermione Granger?"

"Yes, her." Draco's eyebrows knitted. "Want to know something funny, Harry? I originally hated her because of my presumptions about her, but by the time we finished our OWLs, I hated her because of _her_ presumptions about _me_. She, of course, continued to equate my hate to bigotry … fueled by her idiot friends, no doubt …"

He looked up, but Harry waved it off. "I doubt Jacob and Ron have changed all that much, unless they've had epiphanies or something. I know Jacob's godfather hasn't."

Draco blinked. "Sirius Black?"

"Yes, him," said Harry curtly, echoing Draco. "I had an … encounter with him a couple of weeks ago. To shorten the story, he's not that chuffed about your family, including that you and I are on such good terms, as if it's any of his concern. I'll let you have a guess what he recommended I do."

It wasn't often that he was treated to the sight of Draco Malfoy giving in to temptation and rolling his eyes, and he almost smiled at the sight.

"Daphne wasn't amused, either," he added.

"I should hope not, considering she currently _is_ my sister-in-law."

Harry held up his hands. "Agreed, mate. It was at that point that I lost all remaining interest in catching up."

"Mm," was Draco's reply, along with a slight nod. "Black's idiocy aside, he probably isn't wrong about my parents. They're too set in their ways to change now. They tend to keep their views to themselves these days, though, with the way the wizarding world has become all progressive and whatnot."

"You sound a bit bored there, mate."

A slightly lopsided grin graced Draco's face; one of his more human expressions, really, and a particularly rare one. What a day it was. "Character, Harry. I shan't break it."

Harry grinned back, and then adopted a serious expression once more. "To the original topic," he said, "I understand your parents are a bit … er, dogmatic is perhaps too strong a word these days, if they've slacked off …"

"It works well enough for its purpose, as they still hold to the old ways," Draco said with a slight jerk of his head.

"Dogmatic, then," said Harry. "They still love you, though."

"They do," agreed Draco, "and, yes, I'll acknowledge your point that I wasn't mistreated by them in the traditional sense, but abuse doesn't have to be intentional. I didn't want for anything, certainly. I never doubted that they cared, and I still don't, but I didn't learn the life lessons from them that I've long wished I had, and I had to teach empathy for my fellow wizards and witches to myself." His paused, then added, "Not to minimise my wife's efforts on that, of course. Astoria was and has always been instrumental to what I consider to be my maturation."

Harry nodded. "Of course."

A moment's pause, and then Draco asked, "Whatever you believe of them otherwise, do you believe your parents do not love you?"

Harry shrugged. "I honestly wouldn't know, Draco. I can count on one hand the number of conversations I've had with them since graduation. We don't go out of our ways to meet."

"Not even at Christmastime?"

"I haven't visited my parents for Christmas since before Hogwarts," he said. "I used to ask the house-elf to deliver their gifts to them. I split my Christmas holidays between the Lupins and the Greengrasses." He blinked and added, "The Greengrasses know all that – haven't they told you?"

"I suppose the topic's never come up," said Draco, his eyebrows knitted. "If I know my parents-in-law as I believe I do, they likely prefer not to think about it."

"Well, I reckon that's understandable."

"You can't be serious," Draco said, with an inflection in his voice that Harry had never heard before. "Harry, we've been talking at length for a while now. You aren't having doubts about being a father because you don't think you'd know how to be one. No one knows how to be a parent before they become one. If you have doubts about being a father, they probably exist because you don't think you know whether you'd be able to care for your own child, presumably because you don't know if your own parents care about you."

Harry shook his head. "I'm almost positive they don't care about me," he said, a bit curtly, "at least, not as much so as my brother, or why else would they be neglectful?"

"In either case," said Draco, now visibly frustrated, "if you're ever going to have a child with Daphne – and, having known her for quite some time, it'd be safe to assume she'll want to have a child sooner or later – that is something you ought to address. Not, of course, that I believe you'd be a bad parent. You're fantastic with Teddy and Anna."

"Teddy and Anna aren't my children, Draco, and didn't you just get through telling me that having godchildren isn't the same thing?"

"Yes, I did, and I meant that having a godchild isn't the same as having a child." Draco's narrowed eyes bored into Harry's. "That doesn't mean you'd care for them in different ways. Consider this: if, Merlin forbid, something happened to Remus and Nymphadora tomorrow, what would you do about their children? You're their godfather, which means you're most likely to be the one raising them. Would you turn away full custody of them anyway because they aren't yours, content that wherever they went, you'd still be fine as their godfather?"

"What?" snapped Harry. "Of course not!"

Draco nodded. "Exactly! You probably wouldn't think you know anything about how best to raise two young children, but you'd still raise them, and over time you'd realise that you're doing just fine by them!"

"And if that isn't what ends up happening?"

"Harry," said Draco impatiently, "do you honestly believe you have it in you to mistreat a child? Especially a child you care about?"

"_Yes_!" Harry hissed. "How could I not? I've only managed being a godfather because I've basically copied everything Remus did when I was growing up! How am I meant to do that with _my own child_?"

Draco stared at Harry, his eyes wide now, and didn't immediately reply.

"Didn't you just get through telling me," he said after a long, silent moment, "that you consider Remus to be more of a father to you than James Potter? Wouldn't Remus, then, be the example you'd use?"

He held up a hand to prevent interruption.

"I don't know why you're hell-bent on having an example on which you can base your idea of parenting," he said calmly. "I will say it again, Harry. Nobody, _nobody_, has got a clue how to be a parent before they actually become one. Whoever tells you they do is lying to your face. But, if you absolutely must have that example, and that's a hell of an 'if' as far as I'm concerned, then why wouldn't you use Remus as your example of parenthood on top of godparenthood? Why give James Potter any credit whatsoever?" His unblinking eyes never left Harry's. "Why, I ask you, does he deserve to have that influence over your life?"

Harry opened his mouth to retort – and shut it just as quickly, his eyes widening.

It couldn't be that simple, could it? Was this, then, where his reluctance to truly consider becoming a father stemmed from?

Perhaps it was true that, subconsciously, he had thought for so long that if he was to have a child with Daphne, he would eventually fail as his parents had. As far as he knew, they hadn't neglected him in the beginning. It'd only been after Voldemort's attack, at some point in the wake of Jacob's subsequent rise to fame, that the neglect had first started; he had probably been a toddler. He'd read growing up that people tended to become very like their parents – obviously something must happen, something that would bring out whatever had been brought out of his parents.

How could he, though? He couldn't even properly fathom the idea of mistreating his godchildren, let alone actually do so. Why on earth would that change if he and Daphne had the sole responsibility of raising them?

It had been more than six years since Harry had left Godric's Hollow and his parents behind. Had he truly allowed them to cast so great a shadow over him that they were still able to influence him, even all these years later? They had left him with little he could call a childhood, but for Remus being so big a part of his life, and now they were going to take the potential of parenthood away from him, too?

Even if it turned out he didn't want his own children, which was certainly possible, how could he possibly allow his parents to have that sort of power over him?

"Merlin, I'm an idiot," he murmured.

"Come again?"

"You're right," said Harry, and he looked up at Draco, having stared at the table as realisation washed over him. "You're right. I've let them have that power over me for so long, and – and I don't get _why_ – I never even noticed! How could I have been so _stupid_?"

"Harry," Draco said gently, putting a hand on his shoulder to cut him off. "You're not stupid. You're one of the most brilliant wizards I've ever met."

Harry snorted. He felt anything but brilliant right now.

Draco ignored this. "You didn't consciously decide to let your parents influence you," he said, and he gripped Harry's shoulder once before letting go. "At least, I'll assume you didn't, because it doesn't seem like something you'd do. Influences like that are hard to see in yourself and even harder to shake. I'm not going to pretend to know what it's like to have lived the life you have, but I do know what it's like to allow the shadow of your parents to envelop you, and how hard it is to step out from it. It took years for me to see, even when I knew it on some level, that I didn't need to be my father."

He smiled, a rare, genuine expression for him.

"It isn't the same thing. I know that. But it's something, isn't it?"

Was it?

Harry didn't know. The last two weeks felt like one long, drawn-out, all-encompassing awakening from which there was no escape. It was a wonder he'd functioned as well as he had for all those years before Sirius had turned up at his door that night, bringing his past with him. When he'd left Godric's Hollow, he had thought he was leaving behind everything, including all the thoughts and emotions he was beginning to suspect he'd never really dealt with after all.

He wondered, now, if he had spent so long minimising every issue with his family that he'd never _let_ himself truly deal with any of it, that he'd simply compartmentalised it all and shoved it away, forgotten, as he'd moved on with his life.

Was that why it was so hard to let go? Was he holding back in other areas of his life, afraid to adjust the life he'd created because, what, it was fragile? Did he regret how things had gone?

He blinked slowly at that thought. No, he realised, he didn't.

He would never regret anything about his life with Daphne, or of working so hard to achieve top marks in almost all subjects taught at Hogwarts, which had perhaps been as much an escape from his present as it'd been the building of his future. He didn't regret becoming an Unspeakable, and he didn't regret doing his best to live up to what Albus Dumbledore had seen in him.

He knew he didn't regret leaving the Potters behind. How could he? He'd become part of a greater family, one that wanted him, and he would never regret that.

He was happy with the life he'd built for himself. The only thing he was holding back on were the possibilities in his future, such as having children of his own. He had to learn, somehow, to let go of all those reservations.

"I'm glad I bumped into you today, Draco," he said softly. He managed a smile. "It feels like all I've done lately is open my eyes to things I've never realised or admitted. I'd really, really like this to be the last one."

"Sorry, the last what?"

"Epiphany, I reckon." He drained the last of his Butterbeer. "I've reflected more on the past in the last fortnight than in a full year before that. I'd like to stop for a while."

"Oh, Harry," said Draco, shaking his head. "Take it from me, you don't want that. At least, you don't want to stop to the point you try to forget." He looked over at Teddy, who was delighting Hannah with impressions of the various people he had met at Hogwarts. "One of many lessons I've learned is that we're defined by the steps we take to get where we need to go. Our pasts build our futures. These reflections never go away, and you'd be dealt a great disservice if they did." He smirked a little. "You just learn to not dwell on them so much as time goes on."

"I suppose you're right," said Harry. He huffed out a breath, which quickly morphed into a dry chuckle. "A break from it all wouldn't hurt, though."

"Not an unreasonable desire, especially since your lovely friend is bringing over our food now."

Harry looked over. Sure enough, Hannah was approaching them with a large tray of plates on one arm and a small, delighted boy who looked remarkably like her on the other, balanced on her hip. An effortless shift later, Teddy was seated on Harry's lap with his bright green eyes and a similar mop of black locks, as Hannah set their plates in front of them.

"Shall I bring over some more drinks?"

"Thanks, but I'll pass," said Harry.

"This one is enough for me, I think," said Draco.

"Of course." She ruffled a beaming Teddy's hair one last time, smiling just as widely. "Enjoy your meals, gentlemen!"

"This looks good, too," said Draco, and he picked up his plate and sniffed it. His eyes widened with surprise. "This smells amazing. I take back almost everything I've ever said about this place. I will be making a reappearance at some point."

"Hang on," said Harry, a bit amused. "_Almost_ everything?"

"I stand by anything I may have said about this pub's Thursday evening clientele."

"Thursday –" Harry started, but cut himself off and shook his head. "Y'know what, I don't want to know, and Teddy doesn't need to know."

"I wanna know!"

"Maybe when you're older, mate," said Draco seriously.

Teddy crossed his arms and pouted. "That's shite," he said grumpily.

Harry paused, eyes wide, with a forkful of pie in his mouth. He took a moment to chew and swallow the food before looking pointedly at a rather pale Draco. "If he ever says that in front of his mother," he said clearly, "and his mother decides that it came from me, I'm not hesitating to throw you under the bus. She can kick the heck out of you."

"Fair enough, mate," said Draco with a small smirk. "I was about to tell you the same thing."

Harry put a hand to his face, pinching the bridge of his nose, before looking down. "Edward Remus," he said sternly, and Teddy immediately looked up, "promise me that you won't say that word in front of either of your parents."

"OK, Uncle Harry."

"There's a good lad," he said, and he hugged Teddy with the arm that was holding him. "Eat up, now, or we won't make it to the menagerie before it closes."

Teddy's hair flashed red with alarm, and he immediately forgot about Harry in his effort to finish his sandwich. Harry chuckled and turned back to the table to continue eating his steak and kidney pie, only to find Draco looking at him knowingly.

"What?" he said a bit warily.

Draco jerked his head. "If you ever doubt that you'd be a good father after this, Harry," he said seriously, "just remember today. Remember our conversation, of course, but remember how great you've been with those kids, and remember the feeling you get when you spend time with them."

Harry looked down, a small smile twisting his lips. He'd never be able to forget how it felt to spend time with his godchildren, or how it'd felt growing up when Remus spent time with him.

"Do you believe me now?"

"Yeah," said Harry. "I think so."

If not right now, he thought, then eventually he would. Maybe he'd want children of his own someday, and maybe Daphne would, too, or maybe they'd both be content with being godparents and, eventually, an aunt and uncle. Who knew what the future had in store for them?

They'd find out together. Whatever happened, he knew – whether now or eventually – that he could, that he wouldn't be his parents over again. That would be enough for him.

He smiled at Teddy as he ate the last of his sandwich. Yes, he thought, that was more than enough.

* * *

**Author's Note –**

Yeah, I know. It's been a very long time, as quite a few people have made a point to tell me, and beyond any time frame I might have estimated four years ago. With all the gems this site has seen over the years, I'm honestly surprised my series has maintained interest.

I've been lackluster at best with acknowledgements since I wrote Absque. As many people have noted in private messages and reviews, I wanted to explore the non-boy who lived story with a degree of realism, and with some of my own twists to [hopefully] set my version apart from others. Others have noted that I avoided the usual elements of vengeance and betrayal and such, and you're right, I definitely tried to do that. There are some things I couldn't avoid in order to tell the story I wanted, but I did my best to make it as unique as I could manage, and I'd like to think I've managed that.

All feedback is appreciated, of course, but I think the best feedback I can possibly receive is from people who come from comparable backgrounds. Some of you have even shared with me. I think that's incredible, and I don't know what to say, because I don't know what it's truly like. I can only write based on the anecdotes of those who have as well as my own thought process and assumptions on how I would feel and react if it was me.

Thank you again, all of you. Until the next time.


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